


Weather Outside is Frightful

by Goneahead



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bingo, Gen, I've got no excuse, Trucker Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 09:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goneahead/pseuds/Goneahead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>J2 Trucker Fic, written for my free space on Trope Bingo for 1-million-words. Ages and ages ago, I got handed a prompt for "The Weather Outside is Frightful" and I am just getting around to fulfilling it. For the Bingo card that was due three days ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weather Outside is Frightful

Sorry, son." The farmer slowed, edging the truck over onto the shoulder of the road. The old Ford's head beams showed just how narrow the shoulder was--another inch or two, and he'd have put a tire in the ditch. "Gotta let you off here. My ol' lady, she'll kill me if she finds out I've been pickin' up hitchhikers again."

The farmer slipped the gearstick into park and the truck shuddered to a stop. He turned on the inside light, kept talking, "Hillsboro ain't far though--just take 934 north. It'll jog east, then jog north again. Look for County Road 309, that'll take you straight to town. There's a diner right by the feed store; you oughta be able to find someone who can give you a ride to Tyler."

"Thanks." Jensen was dreading leaving the warmth of the cab. It'd been a chilly October day, and with the sun down, 'ain't far' was going to be a very long, very cold walk.

"Here." The farmer leaned over, rummaged through the piles of junk on his dashboard, came up with a pair of dirty work gloves. "Take these. They'll at least keep those hands of yours warm." 

Jensen took the gloves and thanked him. Then he got out, watching as the truck's tail lights faded into the distance.

_Fuck._

It was freezing-- _and_ dark.

He slipped on his backpack, and pulled on the gloves. Then he flipped up his jacket collar, and started walking. There was a sliver of moon in the night sky, but clouds kept obscuring that small scrap of light. The land was too flat to block the wind, the empty fields were nothing but a stretch of empty grays, with the occasional sparse tree.

Jensen trudged, getting colder and colder with each step. By the time he found the county road the farmer had mentioned, he was shivering and his face was raw from the stinging wind. He turned the corner, and his heart sank. Another long stretch of road, disappearing off into the darkness. There was no option, though, but to keep walking.

Ten minutes later, it began to rain.

_Fuck!_

He huddled in his coat, looking around in desperation but there was nothing that could serve as shelter. Then he heard it; the whine of a semi coming up behind him. He turned around and stuck his thumb out, knowing it was a long shot. An ancient Freightliner flew past him--and then braked, coming to a halt about 50 yards up the road.

Jensen immediately ran to the passenger side, scrambled up into the cab. The cab was barely warmer than outside, but at least it was dry. An old trucking song, _Teddy Bear_ was coming from the speakers and the trucker punched off an ancient cassette player, and snapped on the inside light.

"Hey man, sorry about that." The driver was a tall, lanky kid, and he gave Jensen a friendly smile. "I nearly didn't see you. Let me crank the heat; you gotta be freezing."

"Thanks." Jensen said it through chattering teeth, as the first blast of hot air came out of the vents.

"Better?" The kid threw the semi into gear, "Sorry, I don't notice the cold much. I'm Jared, by the way."

Jensen pulled off the gloves, held his hands up to the vents, "My name's Jensen, and I really appreciate this."

"No problem--this kind of weather isn't fit for a dog." Jared drawled out the words, added, "Are you OK with going to Hillsboro? Cuz I'll have drop you off at the diner there--this is my last run."

Jensen was slowly unthawing, his fingers smarting as blood rushed back in. "I'm going to Tyler, but Hillsboro is fine."

Jared turned off the cab light, and hit the windshield wipers. "What's in Tyler?"

"That's where I'm from." Jensen's stomach knotted at the thought of seeing his family again. He wasn't exactly his parents' favorite son, but he had no other choice. He was broke and at least he could work for his brother.

"You don't sound like you're from Tyler--you been away long?" He changed gears, nursing the old Freightliner around a sharp curve. "Sorry, man, you don't have to answer that. My daddy always says I ask too many questions."

"It's OK." Jensen flexed his fingers, "I moved out to California for a while, but things didn't work out."

"Yeah? A girl from my class went out to LA, but she came back home. Said there was too much smog and too many people."

"I was living in San Francisco. What got me was how expensive everything was. But I'm going to miss it--I liked living in a big city." Jensen hadn't meant to share that, but he was warm now, and tired and hungry, and the words slipped out.

"Yeah? So why'd you came back?" Jared glanced back over at him. "Shit, I shouldn't be--"

"No, it's all right. I was in this band. " Jensen meant to keep his answer short, but Jared started asking questions and he found himself telling Jared about the band, and how hard it was to be a musician these days with everything being so commercial. Didn't help that some of the members had fought over everything. The lead singer wanted to move to Seattle, and the drummer and her husband were constantly committing the band to gigs that didn't pay.

The semi's headlights caught the sign _Hillsboro - 5 miles_ and Jensen realized he'd been unloading on Jared for the entire ride. "I'm sorry. I've been talking your ear off."

"It's all right; it's what I am here for, right? Not like I'm going anywhere." Jared gave him an easy grin, then sobered. "You could do something for me, though."

"Sure," Jensen answered, "I owe you--twice.”

"Tell me about the ocean." Jared's expression turned wistful. "My class, they took a trip down to Corpus Christi for our senior year, but I couldn't go cuz my daddy needed me at the freight yard."

 _Shit. How did anybody describe the ocean?_ Jensen tried, fumbling around for the right words. Then he remembered Pier 39, so he told Jared about the sea lions and the tourists, and it didn't take long until he had Jared laughing.

A few minutes later, Jared pulled up the truck over in front of a feed store. "Hey, man, I have to drop you off here, but the diner's right across the street."

"Thanks again for the ride." Jensen reached for his backpack and Jared reached over.

"No problem--it was nice to have somebody to talk to." He held out a five dollar bill, "Here. Saturday night's special is always five dollars. Tell Gen I said to throw in the coffee for free."

"Uh, thank you." Jensen knew he should refuse, but he only had two bucks left and he hadn't eaten since breakfast. "I really appreciate it."

Jared's grin was back, complete with dimples. "My pleasure. Thanks for telling me about those sea lions."

Jensen climbed out then. The rain was falling harder, so he dashed across the street to the diner, He turned around on the small porch, watched the Freightliner's taillights fade into the night.

Then he stepped into the diner. The place was almost empty, just a few older men sitting at the counter, drinking coffee. One of them had to be the town's sheriff from his uniform. He put down his cup, gave Jensen a hard look.

Jensen kept his eyes down, slid into a seat on the other end of the bar, put his backpack on the floor.

"Guess you want some coffee to warm you up?" A middle-aged waitress was already setting a mug of coffee in front of him.

"Yes, please." Jensen looked up, saw her name tag said, _'Gen'_. He glanced at the chalkboard behind her but the only thing written on it was chicken-fried steak for $7.99 and a list of desserts. "Jared said you have a five dollar special."

Gen froze, and the sheriff got to his feet, "Did you say Jared, son?"

"Yeah, he--" Jensen stopped, because all of the other men were now openly staring at him.

"Let me guess. Black Freightliner, with silver lettering on the doors? Picked you up on County Road 309?" The sheriff waited for Jensen to nod, "Thought so. You're not the first hitchhiker who's come in here claiming you got a ride from Jared--especially on a night like this."

"He wasn't even supposed to be driving that night, but his brother was sick," Gen's voice was so soft that Jensen could barely hear it, "so Jared made the run for him."

It was Jensen's turn to stare, because--oh. _Shit._ A cold chill went down his spine. "Wait--are you saying Jared's dead? But I saw him--we _talked_."

"Fraid so." One of the men sitting at the counter spoke up, "It was back in '82. A drunk driver lost control out on the old Harris bridge--they both went over the side."

"It was one of my first calls as a deputy. Jared's father never did get over the shock. He sold the business, and the family moved to Texarkana, in," the sheriff looked at Gen, "what, '86?"

Gen was looking out the front window, her eyes distant. She shook her head, "No. It was in 85--right after what should've been Jared's 25th birthday."

 _But that wasn't possible._ Jensen dug in his jacket pocket. He half-expected to find nothing, but his hand closed on the five dollar bill. He pulled the bill out, dropped it on the counter. "He can't be dead--he gave this to me." 

"Here, son." The sheriff took out his wallet, laid a twenty over the five. "I'll buy you dinner. You go ahead and keep that as a souvenir--of Phantom 309."

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I have now rewritten the old truck driving song "Phantom 309" as J2 fic. Which means my free square on trope bingo is ghost! fic, trucking! fic, _and_ song fic.
> 
> For those unfamiliar with this song, you can listen to it on Youtube: Phantom 309. Also 'Teddy Bear' is another truck driving song by Red Sovine, so um, that was my sad attempt at foreshadowing.


End file.
